


I don't wanna rush into it, if it's too soon (come over)

by Talls



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Divorce, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, God I Love Rosie, Happy Ending, M/M, One Night Stand, They are in love in every universe, True Love, and also if the war was just bj's failed marriage haha, except imagine sodomy isn't illegal and radar isn't a cockblock, reminiscent of 4x01 welcome to korea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talls/pseuds/Talls
Summary: “I’ve never been here before. It’s charming, just not my usual scene,” the man says, smirking a bit. Hawkeye doesn’t read any humor in that smirk.“A special occasion then. To what do we owe this rare honor?” Hawkeye asks. The man stares into his drink and shakes his head ruefully.“I just learned that my wife has been cheating on me,” the man says, a wry smile on his lips. Hawkeye opens his mouth to commiserate because wow, no fun, but then the man follows up that depressing statement with, “with my little sister,” and that blows Hawkeye’s paltry words of comfort out of the water.*In which Rosie is forced to witness two men meet, drink copiously, and teach each other that it's never too late to be happy.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Peg Hunnicutt/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 81





	I don't wanna rush into it, if it's too soon (come over)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for clicking on this fic! I hope you enjoy it! I had a really fun time writing them! they're in love! I know modern adaptations are weird for these guys, but the writing on mash is timeless enough that I think I swung it. let me know if you think i'm very wrong!!
> 
> EDIT: totally stole BJ’s sister’s name from meminisse’s incredible incredible dream fic which interestingly enough also haunts my dreams so check that out for sure 
> 
> title comes from Work by Rihanna ft. Dr*ke

Hawkeye walks into Rosie’s on a Tuesday night after a long shift. He’s not on call for the next three days and doesn’t have to go into work until midday tomorrow, which makes this an optimal night for a mini-bender. He’s been living in San Francisco for a few years now, and this is still the only bar he can stand. It’s small and a little bit off the beaten path, but it’s clean, the lighting is warm and intimate, and the proprietor Rosie makes the driest martinis Hawkeye’s ever tasted. 

The bar is mostly empty except for a couple in a booth that Hawkeye sees here pretty often and a stranger at the bar, a barstool down from his usual spot. Hawkeye makes his way over, waving to Rosie as he approaches. 

“Rosie, my dearest, treasure of my heart, apple of my eye,” Hawkeye begins. 

“What do you want, Hawkeye?” Rosie says, in that unforgiving tone she uses with everyone she loves dearly. 

“One martini, as dry as your wit,” Hawkeye says, batting his eyelashes. Rosie rolls her eyes but moves to assemble the drink. “I see our turbulent twosome is back in the booth today. I’m sure this time they’re breaking up, what do you think?” 

Rosie tilts her head to the side as she thinks about it. “I’m no expert, but I’d guess making up. They ordered separate tabs to start, but he keeps spotting her for drinks.” 

“Well, I’ll defer to your good judgment. A woman's guess is much more accurate than a man's certainty,” Hawkeye says. Rosie smirks at him and sets the martini in front of him. 

“Rudyard Kipling,” the other man at the bar says under his breath. Hawkeye turns to him in pleasant surprise. The man casts a glance at Hawkeye before looking down hastily, like he’s afraid he did something wrong. 

“Give this man a lady in a balcony,” Hawkeye says, peering at the man. He’s fairly nondescript, but still appealing, his ashy blonde hair suggesting an older age that his smooth skin immediately contradicts. He looks morose in a way that suggests his fourth or fifth drink. 

“You come here often?” Hawkeye asks. The man snorts a bit at the line. “I only ask because I do, and I haven’t seen you around here before. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to seduce you.” _Yet,_ Hawkeye thinks. The man has a lean body under his pristine white button-down, and Hawkeye doesn’t think he’d be against seeing it later tonight. 

“No,” the man says, smirking a bit. Hawkeye doesn’t read any humor in that smirk. “I’ve never been here before. It’s charming, just not my usual scene.” 

“A special occasion then. To what do we owe this rare honor?” Hawkeye asks. The man stares into his drink and shakes his head ruefully. 

“I just learned that my wife has been cheating on me,” the man says, a wry smile on his lips. Hawkeye opens his mouth to commiserate because wow, no fun, but then the man follows up that depressing statement with, “with my little sister,” and that blows Hawkeye’s paltry words of comfort out of the water. 

“Fuck,” Hawkeye says, and the man barks a laugh.

“That’s what I said,” he says, chuckling mirthlessly into his scotch as he finishes it off. “Great minds think alike, I guess.” 

“Rosie, get him another drink, this time on me,” Hawkeye says. Rosie makes a disbelieving face at him, probably because the guy has already made substantial headway on his personal bender, but Hawkeye is of the firm belief that a newly cuckolded man gets as many drinks as he wants. 

“You don’t have to do that,” the man says, turning to look at Hawkeye fully for the first time that night. 

“I want to,” Hawkeye says. The man blinks at him. 

“Well, I can’t say I don’t appreciate it. Thank you,” he says, before he bestows upon Hawkeye the most devastating sunny smile he has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. It transforms the man’s face, lighting him up from inside and distracting from his slightly oversized ears and forehead. Hawkeye smiles helplessly back at him, and the man’s grin, impossibly, widens. Hawkeye realizes that he would probably dance an Irish reel on the bar if it would keep the man smiling. 

“Well, just because I’m paying for it, doesn’t mean it’s free,” Hawkeye says. The man’s smile doesn’t drop but does take on a shade of confusion. 

“What’s your price?” he asks. 

“Your name,” Hawkeye says. “I can’t keep referring to you as ‘handsome stranger’ in my internal monologue, it’s getting tedious for the studio audience.” 

“BJ,” the man says, reaching his hand across the empty barstool between them. Hawkeye shakes it, absently noting BJ’s firm but not aggressive grip, his long fingers and smooth palm. 

“Hawkeye,” Hawkeye responds, and the man nods in acknowledgment. “What does BJ stand for?” 

“Anything you want,” the man says in a practiced tone that makes Hawkeye believe he’s said it before. “Hawkeye. Why Hawkeye? Are you particularly attached to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?” Hawkeye rolls his eyes. 

“It’s from the Last of the Mohicans,” Hawkeye explains. “One of my dad’s favorite books. I got the nickname in my youth, long before Jeremy Renner got his grubby little mitts on it.” 

“Ah, I touched upon a nerve, I see,” BJ says. “How about I treat you to a drink to make up for it?” 

“Wait a second. If I buy you a drink and you buy me a drink, who’s flying the plane?” Hawkeye says as he slides into the barstool next to BJ. BJ smiles at his not-a-joke and Hawkeye likes him all the more for it. 

“Tell me about yourself, Hawkeye,” BJ says. “Distract me from my many and sundry woes.” 

“I’m a Scorpio, I don’t tan well, and I like long walks on the beach at sunset,” Hawkeye says. BJ’s shoulders shake a bit. Hawkeye wants to make him laugh out loud. 

“What do you do for a living between beach walks and tanning unevenly?” BJ asks, resting his head on his hand in a model of a perfect listener. 

“I’m a surgeon,” Hawkeye says. BJ’s eyes widen. 

“No kidding, me too. I work at Zuckerberg as a general surgeon, you?” 

“Cardiothoracic at Sutter,” Hawkeye says. BJ makes a face of respect. 

“I’m interested in specializing in cardio,” BJ says, “But I get nervous about it sometimes. Anything close to the heart is risky.” 

“I don’t know. I think you’d surprise yourself,” Hawkeye says, because there’s just something about BJ that just screams capable. Something about how steady his hands are, even with all those drinks in him, something about the set of his jaw, the cut of his jib. 

“Have you ever been married?” BJ asks in a non-sequitur. Hawkeye supposes that everything today will probably remind BJ of his failed marriage. 

“No, somebody’s going to have to get me pregnant first,” Hawkeye quips. BJ snorts and Hawkeye grins at him. 

“Have you ever wanted to?” BJ presses. Hawkeye thinks about it. 

“Sure,” Hawkeye says, after a moment of contemplation. “I’ve thought about it. I want kids, you know, and I always imagined doing that with a partner. I mean, my dad raised me alone for half my childhood, and I think he was brilliant at it, I just think I wouldn’t do as well as he did in those circumstances.” 

“I don’t know. I think you’d surprise yourself,” BJ says. Hawkeye smiles and looks down at his drink. 

“How about you, got any kids?” Hawkeye asks. 

“No. We talked about it for a few years but it never seemed like the right time given where our careers were. Now the point is moot.” 

They sit in that glum silence for a second before simultaneously downing their drinks. 

“Rosie, another round for BJ please,” Hawkeye says. 

“And one for Hawkeye,” BJ echoes before turning bodily to face Hawkeye, knocking his knees against Hawkeye’s thigh. “You know what’s really stupid?” 

“What’s really stupid?” 

“This whole situation,” BJ says, gesturing broadly to everything around him. “All of it is incredibly stupid.” 

“BJ, I think you might be onto something here,” Hawkeye says. 

“I mean, if I had known we were allowed to sleep around if the liaison was homosexual, do you know how many times I could have gotten laid?” BJ asks. Hawkeye’s eyes widen. Now, this is a twist! “I mean, Carl alone.”

“Carl?” Hawkeye asks, absolutely delighted by the way this conversation has turned. And here he was thinking that BJ was a straight arrow. More fool him. 

“He’s our handyman. He's maybe 6 foot 4 and works out with weights. Got these huge arms. Wears skintight T‐shirts with the sleeves cut off,” BJ says quasi-dreamily. 

“Sounds like a dreamboat,” Hawkeye teases. BJ rolls his eyes and shoves Hawkeye gently. “I’m serious. I dated a guy like that once, I gotta say, you really missed out.” 

BJ’s foot is resting against the tip of Hawkeye’s shoe. Hawkeye doesn’t think he’s noticed yet. He commits to keeping that foot as still as possible, so BJ doesn’t think to move. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” BJ says, leaning across the bar in the conspiratorial manner of drunks everywhere. Hawkeye leans in to match him. 

“Always,” Hawkeye promises inanely. BJ smiles at him, leaning even further. 

“I’m not actually mad at Peg at all,” BJ says. Hawkeye furrows his brows. “I’m mad at myself.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” Hawkeye says immediately to stop this line of thinking in its tracks. “Even if she was unhappy in the relationship, which, frankly, I don’t understand at all since you seem to be an absolute prince, it’s still not an excuse. You can be gracious and all later, but you can’t blame yourself for her decisions.” 

“I don’t blame myself,” BJ says. “Peg cheated on me because she fell in love and realized she’s a lesbian. That’s one of the few things about our relationship that I have absolutely nothing to do with.” 

“Then why are you angry at yourself?” Hawkeye asks, genuinely befuddled. He thinks this might be the first time this conversation that BJ and he haven’t been on the same page, which is a tremendously strange thing to realize. 

“I’m angry at myself because I wish I had her guts. She got out! You know, she told me she realized she was gay, so she couldn’t stay in the relationship, and my first thought was _but I did!_ ” BJ says, laughing bitterly. Hawkeye gets the feeling that BJ has never said any of this to a living soul, including himself. “And if I did, why couldn’t she? As if I could ever make her happy.” 

“Did she ever make you happy?” Hawkeye asks. BJ tilts his head to the side, considering the question. 

“I think feeling normal made me happy,” BJ says after a few minutes. “If that makes sense.” 

“It does,” Hawkeye says. He’s spent a lot of time wondering if he’d be happier if he could just _conform_ the way almost everyone in his life has begged him to for as long as he could talk, if he could just cut off those extraneous bits of eccentricity -- if then people would stay. 

He tries not to spend all that much time thinking about it, though. He lives on his own terms at his own pace. That’s enough for him, and the rest be damned. 

“I don’t even know if being normal actually did make me all that happy,” BJ says in a philosophical tone. “I suppose happy isn’t the right word. Maybe content. Or,” his eyes brighten and he snaps his fingers, staring intently into Hawkeye’s eyes as if trying to beam his new revelation directly into his mind, “safe! She made me feel safe because I knew I had gotten it right. I had gotten into the right kind of relationship with the right kind of woman, and that was locked into place.” 

“What specifically made the relationship right?” Hawkeye asks. BJ thinks and then winces.

“Would it be cliché to say my father’s approval?” BJ asks wryly. Hawkeye sees that small smile on his lips again, the same one that only seems to show up whenever BJ says his most miserable sentences. 

“It’s a cliché for a reason. Our fathers make us the men we are, whether or not we want to admit it. Even when we stand in opposition to them, they define us.” 

“What did your father make you?” BJ asks, intent. 

“A clown,” Hawkeye says immediately. BJ laughs as if Hawkeye surprised him into it. “I’m luckier than most. Not only does my father love me unconditionally, but he’s an incredible doctor and a comedic wizard to boot. I wanted to be him when I grew up. I still do.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” BJ says in a complicated tone, and Hawkeye throws his drink back in commiseration yet again. 

“Okay, Beej,” Hawkeye says, and BJ nods very seriously. “We’ve talked enough about what is and what was, now let’s talk about what could be.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” BJ asks, still very focused on Hawkeye in a very drunk kind of way. 

“Well, you know, you’ve been framing this divorce as a loss of safety and security, which is understandable,” Hawkeye begins. BJ nods seriously to show he’s keeping up. “But you know, there’s a flip side to that loss. Every cloud’s silver lining and all that.” 

“What’s the silver lining then?” BJ asks, genuinely curious. 

“Freedom!” Hawkeye crows, prompting an evil eye from Rosie. “Freedom,” he says in a quieter tone, but with no less passion. BJ furrows his brows at him. “I mean, what are things you always wanted to do but never could because you were married? Other than Carl.” BJ cackles. 

“I don’t know,” BJ says, considering the question. “I didn’t let myself think about it.” 

“I think you should. I think starting right now, you should write down a list of everything you’ve ever had the slightest repressed desire to do, and then you should check each one off the list.” 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to grow a mustache,” BJ says, staring into the middle distance. Hawkeye winces. 

“Well, I guess we have to start somewhere,” Hawkeye says fatalistically. He pats his pockets and finds a pen, before uncapping it and grabbing one of the cocktail napkins and writing: 

1\. Pornstache 

BJ peers at what he’s writing and then dissolves into hysterics. 

“I’m serious!” Hawkeye exclaims. “What’s next? Ever wanted a tattoo?” 

“No tattoos,” BJ says, shaking his head. “But I guess in terms of appearance, I have always wanted to dress differently.” 

“So, two, dress better?” Hawkeye asks. BJ shakes his head. 

“Worse. I want to dress way worse,” BJ says, and Hawkeye cackles before writing. 

2\. Worse clothes.

“Travel? Ever wanted to see the world but life got in the way?” Hawkeye asks, and then the conversation spirals from there. They fill the cocktail napkin with increasingly ludicrous ideas about BJ’s suddenly wide-open future, laughing louder with every new addition to the list. By the time they get to their third napkin, Hawkeye is actually crying with laughter, the stitches in his side making it hard to breathe. BJ isn’t doing any better, given the tear tracks on his face and the way he keeps telling Hawkeye to shut up so he can calm down. 

Rosie stops by and taps on the bar in front of them. “We’re closing,” she says. Hawkeye blinks before checking his phone. He and BJ had been drinking together for hours. Hawkeye didn’t notice the time passing. They pay their tabs and move to exit the bar together.

“Thank you for a lovely evening as always, Rosie,” Hawkeye says as gallantly as he can. Rosie rolls her eyes, but Hawkeye knows it's all out of love. 

“See you soon, Hawkeye,” she says, before he and BJ step outside into the brisk chill of night. Hawkeye shivers a bit, rubbing his hands together before he pulls out his phone to call a Lyft. 

BJ starts laughing. At Hawkeye’s inquiring noise, he says, “I just realized I don’t know where I’m staying tonight. After Peg and Lois sat me down and told me everything, I walked straight out of the house and called an Uber. I don’t think they’re expecting me tonight. God, it’d be awkward to walk into my bedroom and see them together.” He keeps chuckling, as if the prospect is newly hilarious. 

“Come home with me,” Hawkeye says. He isn’t laughing. 

“You don’t have to do that, Hawk,” BJ says, waving Hawkeye off, his chuckles tapering off. “I’ve slept on the couch in the breakroom enough to know what it does to my back.” 

“I wasn’t offering my couch,” Hawkeye says, still not laughing. BJ freezes before turning slowly to stare at Hawkeye. His face is inscrutable. Hawkeye looks down, fiddling with his phone. “You’re kind of the definition of rebounding right now, not to mention in the middle of a massive sexuality crisis, so I understand if the answer’s no, but-” 

“Yes,” BJ says. Now it’s Hawkeye’s turn to freeze and stare. “Yes, I want to go home with you tonight.” 

“Are you sure?” Hawkeye asks incredulously. “You know, it’s not like you have to sleep with me to put a roof over your head, you do have options here.” 

“I know. If you’re a cad, I’ll just get a motel room. How were you planning on getting home?” BJ asks, blushing a bit, or maybe that’s the cold.

“I called a Lyft,” Hawkeye says, waving his phone around so he can do something with his hands. “Look, BJ, I mean, not to be that jackass, but have you ever even kissed a guy before?” 

“Are you trying to talk me out of this because you’ve changed your mind?” BJ asks his face suddenly blank again. 

“No! No, no, no, no, no,” Hawkeye says, his words tripping on each other. BJ seems relieved by his inability to speak, thank god, so Hawkeye tries to continue. “I just don’t want to be something you regret down the line.” 

Hawkeye watches the same bright beautiful smile that screwed Hawkeye in the first place spread across BJ’s face and immediately forgets why he was trying to talk him out of this in the first place. 

“Well, if you’re worried about physical compatibility, we could test the waters a bit, just to be sure. You know, like an experiment,” BJ says, stepping into Hawkeye’s space neatly, the smile mysteriously gone from his face. Hawkeye’s throat works uselessly. 

“That seems very scientific,” Hawkeye murmurs, as BJ leans in. Hawkeye tilts his head up a bit to meet him, before their mouths collide, almost clumsily. Hawkeye doesn’t want to spook him, not while he’s being so tentative, so they kiss like teenagers, like they’re just figuring attraction out for the first time. It feels distinctly romantic, and the notion makes Hawkeye’s cheeks heat. 

BJ pulls away first, a frown on his face. Hawkeye’s heart plummets. 

“Is everything okay?” Hawkeye asks, not sure if he should pull away. BJ shakes his head.

“I can’t believe it, but that kiss was completely inconclusive. I have no idea if we're compatible or not,” BJ gripes. Hawkeye’s heart stops plummeting and stays in a weird limbo zone around his knees. At least inconclusive is better than horrible. “You know what this means, don’t you? We’re going to have to run multiple trials in different contexts to ensure experimental integrity.” 

Hawkeye sees the glimmer of a smile on the edges of BJ’s scowling face. That rat. “Oh well, I’ll do anything for experimental integrity,” Hawkeye says leaning into to kiss BJ’s smile off his stupid face. 

The Lyft pulls in front of them still making out twelve minutes later, at which point they pile into the backseat of a Nissan Altima, pointedly staring in opposite directions, and listen patiently to their driver Patrick tell them about his dream of making it big on the stand-up circuit until they make it to Hawkeye’s place. 

Hawkeye lets BJ into his home and promptly pins him up the front door to stick his tongue down his throat. BJ responds eagerly, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold them flush together. 

“God, that drive was fucking interminable,” Hawkeye moans into BJ’s neck as he unbuttons BJ’s shirt. 

“Tell me about it,” BJ pants, untucking the back of Hawkeye’s shirt and sliding his hands under it, so he’s touching bare skin. “Odysseus took less time to get home.” 

“Which of us is Penelope then?” Hawkeye asks, as he pulls BJ towards his bedroom. He thanks his lucky stars that he remembered to vaguely make his bed that morning. 

“Neither of us,” BJ says, “but you can be Diomedes if you want.” BJ’s shirt is off and now Hawkeye finally gets to put his hands on that lean frame, feel his chest hair and taste his clavicles. Hawkeye’s shirt comes off too, and then BJ is pushing him onto the bed.

“Well, then I guess Nobody's getting laid tonight,” Hawkeye says, and BJ laughs and pins him down, devouring him with slow fierce kisses. “I gotta say, you seem to be handling all this very well,” Hawkeye says as soon as they pause for breath, because for BJ’s first liaison with a guy, he doesn’t seem nervous at all. 

“Just wait until I try to unhook your bra,” BJ says, fumbling with the belt on Hawkeye’s pants. Hawkeye laughs and BJ pauses, just after he gets the zipper down. Hawkeye waits for him to move again, but he stays still, peering at Hawkeye contemplatively. 

“Did you want to stop?” Hawkeye asks breathlessly. BJ shakes his head and gets back to tugging Hawkeye’s slacks down his hips. 

“No, I just,” he starts, before he yanks the pants off completely and throws them across the room. “I just didn’t know I could laugh this much. I didn’t think this could be so fun.” 

Hawkeye beams at him and BJ smiles back though not without a degree of confusion. “Well, that might just be me,” Hawkeye says. “I don't know if you can tell, but I’m a very good time.” 

“Yes, you are,” BJ says, not laughing. Then he stands up completely, giving Hawkeye the opportunity to strip down completely as he pulls off his slacks and briefs. BJ nude looks like an Adonis, all flawless golden skin and lean muscle, and he’s really remarkably well-endowed. Hawkeye doesn’t want to be crass, but he wants his mouth on him yesterday. 

BJ, apparently not given to the same need for speed, stares down at Hawkeye with a curiously blank expression. It’s the first moment they’ve really taken to separate from each other and think about what exactly they’re doing here, and for a second, Hawkeye thinks that this is what will finally make BJ balk, confronting the naked truth of his own sexuality played by Hawkeye Pierce. 

“See anything you like?” Hawkeye asks, winking and shimmying his shoulders a bit to cover up the insecurity that has suddenly sprouted out of nowhere in his chest. BJ smirks. 

“Oh, a few things,” he says very nonchalantly.

Then, BJ pounces. 

*

Hawkeye wakes up feeling like he slept on a cloud. He reaches over to the other side of the bed to see if BJ is still there, and isn’t surprised when he isn’t. He had hoped, maybe, that this time his partner would want to stick around for him, but he knew where BJ was emotionally before he took him home. 

It’s just that he’s never felt this strongly about someone based on one night before. He’s never liked someone so much, never felt as seen or understood, and he thought for a few minutes there that BJ felt the same way. But, Hawkeye’s been wrong before. In fact, he’s been wrong _every_ time he’s thought someone would want to stick around long-term, so it makes sense that he was wrong now. He just thought- 

Hawkeye rolls out of bed and groans. He can’t keep thinking about this. It was one perfect night, but one night nonetheless, and Hawkeye should feel glad to have gotten it at all. BJ must have cleaned the room a bit before he left, because Hawkeye’s clothes are draped neatly over the back of a chair instead of on the floor. He checks his phone, which is still charged, though only at 18%. There aren’t any texts or calls and he has to be at work in an hour. Hawkeye rubs at his eyes and moves to attach his phone to the bedside table charger, when he pauses. 

There’s a note on the bedside table. Hawkeye freezes and then very slowly, picks up the note and starts reading it. 

_Hawkeye,_

_I really wanted to be here in the morning - I guess this makes me  the cad. Unfortunately, I have an early shift at OR and then I have to actually begin divorcing my wife after. Sorry I didn’t wake you up when I left. You were sleeping so peacefully and I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. I still can’t, technically, which is why I’m hoping this won’t be a goodbye at all. I’ve left my number on the back of this note, along with my full name, email address, and star sign, just in case you wanted to research our compatibility in your free time. _  
_I get it if you weren’t planning on seeing me again - as you so aptly stated last night, I’m the definition of rebounding and in the middle of a sexuality crisis. In that case, you should know that last night was perfect. I could never regret it, or you. I hope you do reach out though. You make me very happy. I forgot how that felt._

_Yours, BJ_

_PS. You know that list we were coming up with? You beat the mustache -- but only barely._

Hawkeye feels his face split into a wide grin. It feels like the clouds have parted and let the sun through on a dreary day, like something wonderful is beginning and all Hawkeye has to do is let it happen. 

He practically skips to the shower, whistling a tune and thinking about nothing in particular. He wonders how BJ likes his eggs. He’ll text later and ask.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know if you enjoyed this!!! kudos and comments especially really make me want to write more!


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